


to the fires of eternity with you

by aymrsbhar



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, hi so i'm back!, i hope to be back with some more soon!, i hope you enjoy this one!, post crimson flower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aymrsbhar/pseuds/aymrsbhar
Summary: "to the fires of eternity with you, el."edelgard wonders if he knew that he would meet her there soon. // post crimson flower route





	to the fires of eternity with you

**Author's Note:**

> hi, so i'm back! it's been a little bit since i've written for them. thank you so much for reading!

_ As the new Adrestian emperor, Edelgard dedicated her life to reshaping the delicate political structure of Fódlan. With tireless work and great sacrifice, she reformed the class system to ensure a free and independent society for all. In her later years, she entrusted her life's work to a worthy successor before finally vanishing from the public eye. _

* * *

The crisp winter air in Fhirdiad is a stark contrast to the warm gentle breeze that blessed Enbarr; deep down in her heart, Edelgard believes she preferred the former. She adjusts the dark blue shawl around her shoulders as she moves away from the frost - stained windows of the little cottage that she lived in. She moves deeper into the little cottage, past the tiny kitchen, and into the den of her home. 

She does not leave her home often; the people don’t recognize her, sure, because when they’ve heard of the Adrestian emperor they had heard of how she fought the Immaculate One in their burning city. They don’t imagine that she’s walking among them, slower and in time with the crowds, pulling her shawl close to her and her coat closed. The winters are bleak in Faerghus; even more so now that they mourn their king. Edelgard mourns with them because she had never gotten the chance to in war. 

There’s a small grove where she and Dimitri used to play. She taught him how to dance there once, letting him go with a kiss to his cheek after he protested numerous times that he had to head home. She keeps the dagger that he had given her close, and it remains at her side, tapping against her leg as she walked along in the crowds to the small grove. She doesn’t go out anymore, though, because her legs are weak and all she does now is confine herself to her home and in the rocking chair close to the fire. 

The emperor pushes herself up from the rocking chair, a dainty hand taking hold of the golden fireplace poker sitting tight in its case. Her fingers are met with the sting of how cold the handle actually is, and she reaches out to tend to the fire. The coal and the wood burn, the scent filling her home, and she sits back in her chair. Her feet move the chair, back and forth, back and forth, ever so slowly as the sound mixes with the crackling of the fire in front of her. 

(Dimitri always hated fire. So did she.) 

She watches the fire dance as she rocks back and forth in her chair, and she closes her eyes. It’s warmer here, she thinks, because it’s not like the rest of her house where it’s colder and bleaker and matches the white clouds and ground in Fhirdiad. There’s color here, flickering in oranges and yellows and blues, and she finds it all too easy to remember the flames that had engulfed her home -- _ their _home. Dimitri always hated fire because there was so much of it in Duscur. If he hated seeing that so much already, then watching their home burn was going to be the same. He was so scared of the flames, though, and yet

“You condemned me to that fate,” she murmurs to the air. There is no response; Dimitri wouldn’t speak back. “I wonder if you knew after all.” No one responds to her, and she doesn’t expect one. Not from the ghosts that haunted him, and certainly not from him.

The rocking stops. The sound of the flames quietly crackle through the rest of the night. 

. 

There are flames everywhere. Edelgard takes a deep breath as she continues to walk through untouched. It’s hot beneath her uniform, though, and she takes another deep breath in and out. The ground is dry, with cracks in the soil but she’s focused ahead, lilac eyes focused on what's to meet her at the end. 

“Have you been waiting long?” she’s the first to speak, and in the oranges and yellows and blues of the flames surrounding them golden hair still shines. He’s radiant amongst the flames. Blue eyes soften, and he shakes his head. He does not smile at her. She accepts that. 

“Yes,” he tells her, then looking out to the flames. “I had condemned you here. I didn’t expect that I would follow behind.” Dimitri got here before her; Edelgard thinks he belongs anywhere other than here. 

“I didn’t expect to find you here, either. You hated fire.” She moves to stand by his side. He allows that, at the very least. 

“I did.” His voice is soft. “I still do.” 

They stand there together, watching the flames dance around them. They’re untouched by the oranges and yellows and blues, and they’re the ones burning brighter against them. 

“You didn’t like the heat either,” Dimitri recalls, then looking down at her. “This is no different.” This is what he wanted for her, of course, but he watches her stare out into the flames. She’s radiant amongst them, white hair shining in contrast to the red sky above and the fire surrounding them. 

“No, but you’re here.” There's both ease and unease when Edelgard tells him this; it's not the most ideal place that she would have wanted to tell him, either. She moves a little closer. He allows that. 

“And?” 

“I'm not as scared.” They look ahead, to red skies and fields of fire that will only continue to burn for as long as they’re there. They narrow their gazes at each other, though, and with whatever closeness they have they take it. 

“I’ll walk through them with you,” she continues after a moment, letting the sound of the fire crackling around them take over instead before gathering another response. She doesn’t look at him. “The flames, I mean.” 

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, and he resigns himself to his fate. “I don’t think there’s anyone else I'd walk through them with.”


End file.
